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Halme Der Nacht

She combs her hair, like the dead are combed,

She carries the blue fragments under her robe.

She bears the fragment-world on a single skein.

She knows the words, but she only beams.

She mixes her smile in the glass of wine:

She must drink it, to exist in the world.

You are the photograph, where her fragments are seen,

When she leans toward making of life some meaning.excerpt from the poem

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Paul Celan

Paul Celan (/ˈsɛlæn/;[1] German: [ˈtseːlaːn]; 23 November 1920 – c. 20 April 1970) was a Romanian-born German-language poet and translator. He w…
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